by J. L. Beck
“Why the long face, A?”
“A? Is that a nickname or something? I wasn’t aware I had made it to that status of cool yet.”
“Maybe you haven’t in Vance’s book, but you have in mine.”
“Did he put you up to this?” I question, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Clark circles me coming to stand in front of me. He’s just about as tall as Vance, but height aside, they couldn’t be any more different from each other.
He chuckles. “God no, he’s my friend, but he can’t dictate who I talk to. I’m a big boy… a very big boy, and I make my own choices.” He’s laying the flirting on thick, like icing on top of a cake, and even though I’m not in the mood to deal with that kind of shit, I can’t stop the smile from appearing on my lips. Clark brings a very small piece of happiness to my situation.
“Do you try this hard with all the ladies?”
He inhales a breath before exhaling, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack, “Usually, no. Most of the time it’s… Ooo Clark, please fuck me. Oh yes, Clark. Right there… right there... Their panties are on the floor, no questions asked.”
Snorting, I shake my head. “Now I understand why you and Vance are friends.”
“And why is that?” he teases.
“Because you’re both arrogant as hell, slightly piggish, and have egos the size of your heads.” Clark winces as if I’ve wounded him, and I feel kind of bad, having just said what I did without really knowing him.
“You wound me, A. Wound me. And yet, you intrigue me all at once. Vance hates you, which I’m sure you know by now…” Reaching out, he grasps onto a piece of my hair, twirling it around, examining it in the afternoon sun. “But I don’t… I’m curious about you. I want to be your friend. I want to get to know you.”
“You mean you want to get to know my panties.”
Dropping the lock, he grins, his smile breathtaking, perfectly straight white teeth showing from behind lightly pink parted lips.
“Well, of course, I’m a guy, and I have a dick so yeah, I want to get acquainted with your panties, more like your vagina, but I also want to get to know you. We can be friends too. Let’s have dinner… we can go to Slice It.”
Clark’s harmless in the big scheme of things, this I know. But, him getting to know me? That can’t lead to anything good. I chew on the inside of my cheek, indecision rippling through me. This is a bad idea, a terrible idea, but I’m alone, so damn alone, and I’m tired of it. I’m desperate for some human interaction, even if it’s with the enemy’s best friend.
How sad is that?
Clark bats his eyelashes and gives me his best puppy dog look. I can’t imagine what that look gets him on a regular basis.
“Does that look usually get you whatever you want?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“All the time, sweetheart,” Clark drawls.
Tapping on my chin with my finger, I continue to weigh my options. Go home to face an empty house, and Vance, or go to dinner with Clark, possibly making a new friend and enjoying myself? It can’t be that bad, can it? What’s the worst that happens? Vance finds out? Then what? He can’t hurt me anymore than he already has.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Pizza, endless conversation, and you’ll get to chill with me, that’s the most amazing part of all.”
He’s… Jesus, is he full of himself.
“Fine. I’ll go, but only if you understand that this is dinner only. Dinner as friends. No date, no kissing, no sex. No funny business whatsoever.” I narrow my gaze, waiting for him to answer me. He takes a step closer, and I inhale his scent. Bold and spicy with undertones of vanilla.
“Scout’s honor, princess,” he promises, holding up two fingers. “Dinner, no funny business, though that is my favorite kind of business.”
“Not with me, it isn’t.”
We exchange numbers, even though I’m pretty sure he already has mine. I think everyone does after Vance’s most recent prank where he posted my number all over campus and on Craigslist. The asshole had people blowing up my phone all week asking for nude pictures and booty calls.
“Let’s meet back up at four near the coffee shop next to the English building,” Clark says, his eyes clashing with mine. “You know where that is right?”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yeah, I know where it is. I’ll be there. Hopefully you don’t regret hanging out with me.”
“Never, A. Never.” Shaking his head, he backpedals a couple steps. “I’ll see you later,” he exclaims before disappearing into the mass of students walking in my direction. My phone chimes in my pocket and I pull it out, my eyes falling to the time.
Shit! How the hell am I going to graduate when I can’t even make it to class on time?
◆◆◆
We walk into the small pizza place a few hours later. The aroma of fresh basil and oregano fill the entire place, making my mouth water. I’m starving, my stomach grumbles so loudly I’m surprised Clark can’t hear it.
“How about over there.” Clark points to a secluded booth in the back.
“Sure.” I shrug. He grabs my hand and tugs me along behind him. Gazing down at our joined hands, I’m not sure what to think. He’s kind, flirtatious, yes, but he’s harmless in comparison to Vance. When we reach the booth, he lets go of my hand and we both scoot into the booth and sit down across from each other.
“So, how are things going on the home front?” Clark asks. I guess no meaningless small talk before asking the personal questions with him. I wonder if he does this on dates? If he dates at all? Probably not.
“You make it sound like it’s a war zone.”
Clark shrugs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in that boyish way that seems to make him more attractive. “I would assume living with Vance is like a war zone. The fucker drives me insane on a daily basis and we don’t even live together.”
“Well it’s not easy, he’s constantly harassing me, pointing out my weaknesses and verbally assaulting me.”
Clark frowns. “Not that it’s an excuse, he shouldn’t try and hurt you like he is, but Vance was lost, confused for a long time after you left, fuck, he still is.”
For some reason that surprises me. I’m a poster kid for lost and confused. One would think I could recognize that a million miles away, but Vance doesn’t seem just lost and confused, he seems livid, angry beyond disbelief.
“He didn’t use to be this way,” I say, taken aback by how sad the words sound.
I miss the old Vance, I miss my friend. Clark must pick up on my sudden somber mood, because he quickly changes the subject. We talk about classes, his latest hook-up, and the pressure he feels from his father to get good grades, play baseball, and keep up the perfect son image.
I’m glad to have the attention off of me, and as we eat and continue to chat, I feel like I’m actually growing closer to him. When we part ways, I’m a little sad, but we agree to meet up again soon. The entire drive home I’m smiling, carefree, without any weight on my shoulders. Hanging out with Clark wasn’t nearly as bad as I had anticipated it to be. In fact, it was much more fun than I expected.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the driveway. I kill the engine, grab my backpack off the passenger seat and walk up the concrete steps to the front door. Like a father waiting for his daughter to be dropped off from her first date, Vance opens the door before I can even grab for the door handle.
“Where have you been?” His tone is condescending and the way he’s looking at me has my stomach tumbling into a ball. Nimble fingers thread through his glossy black hair, it looks soft, like cashmere and I want to touch it, run my fingers through it.
“Out,” I growl, pushing past him and inside. Our shoulders touch briefly, and my skin tingles, the fine hairs on my arms standing on end. It’s almost like I’ve been struck by a tiny bolt of lightning. Too bad it didn’t kill me dead.
“Out? Out where? Someone said they saw you with Clark. Were you on a date? Was the lying thief using her tight cunt to con
my friend?”
My mouth pops open, shock coloring my features. “Excuse me, but it wasn’t a date, and I didn’t use my—” I can’t even say the word, I’m so flabbergasted. “I didn’t have sex with him, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I’m not some floozy who sleeps with every guy she meets.” My mind flashes to Sarah, I’m not like her. He doesn’t think I’m like her, does he?
Vance’s green eyes darken. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“You’re an asshole,” I say, attempting to verbally slap him with my words like he does me every time he opens his stupid mouth.
“And you’re a liar.” He takes a step closer, the heat of his body slamming into mine. His presence makes me dizzy. I don’t know if I should slap him or kiss him. I crave his touch, but at the same time, I don’t. This, whatever it is that’s taking place between us, is exhausting.
“Whatever, Vance. You’ll think whatever you want to, no matter how much I defend myself.” Refusing to give him even another moment of my time, I head toward the stairs. I’ve got a pile of homework to do and I want to get a little reading in before bed. Neither of those things will get done if I stand here trying to defend myself against someone who refuses to tell me what I’ve done wrong. I make it all of two steps before his warm hand is circling my arm and pulling me backward.
Bumping into his firm chest, I try and whirl around, but Vance is fast, and using his height and body he easily overpowers me. With both hands gripping onto my arms, he holds them behind my back, guiding me to the nearest wall, only releasing me once my face is pressed against the cream-colored wall.
“Did you think about me when he touched you?” His voice is thick, and I feel my pussy clenching around nothing. Why does he have to be so stupidly handsome, and why do I have to be attracted to him. He hates me, while I pretend to hate him because the alternative would be unbearable.
We can’t do this.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
“He didn’t touch me, and no, I never think about you,” I lie. Fuck it. I might as well live up to the name he keeps calling me.
I think about you all the time.
“Me either. I never think about you.” His fingers trail down my arm, and goosebumps follow in the wake of his touch. I want to lean into him, let him burn me, because I know if I give myself to him, he will, he’ll burn me so badly I won’t even recognize myself when he’s done with me. His hand drops to my hip, and my chest heaves, my lungs tightening. An entire zoo of butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Oh lord. “Did he touch you here?” Those devilish lips of his press against the shell of my ear, and I tip my head back against his firm chest, my eyes drifting closed while I give myself over to the pleasure of his touch. His deft fingers skim across the front of my yoga pants, and my burning hot center.
“Did he?” he mumbles against my skin, and it feels like I’m on fire, literal fire. He’s burning me with the tips of his fingers, branding my flesh with his mark.
“Are you wet with need for him, or is that all for me?”
“No,” I whisper, my body humming as he runs his finger over my bikini line and back to my hip, kneading the flesh there.
Something’s wrong with me, something’s very… I don’t even get to finish that thought because he’s slipping his hand into my pants, his fingers ghosting over the edge of my panties.
“Tell me to stop… God, please tell me to stop, Ava.”
Hunger vibrates from his chest. He wants me just as badly as I want him, and for some reason that gratifies me.
Knowing he wants me while hating me at the same time. It makes me feel powerful, like I actually stand a chance against him. Tension hangs thickly between us, and just like a rubber band snapping under pressure, Vance snaps, losing his ability to make the right choice. His fingers slip beneath my panties, and I suck in a greedy breath, feeling like I’ll never be able to breathe again.
“This is wrong...so wrong. But it feels so right, doesn’t it? Tell me it feels right.” His voice drags on, his lips sucking on a patch of skin beneath my ear.
“Yes,” I admit breathlessly, leaning into him even more, wishing there wasn’t any fabric at all between us. God, I want to feel him. Want him to touch me. Take from me. I want him to show me how much he hates me, but instead of his words, I want him to use his hands.
Without warning, he rips his hand from my red hot center and spins me around so we are face to face. Facing each other feels more intimate, and suddenly I’m self-conscious my eyes skating down to his well-defined chest.
“Don’t look away…” he coaxes with a hand under my chin, tipping my head back up, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I want you to look into my eyes when you fall apart. I want you to feel who owns your pleasure and your hate. So next time you’re with him, or anyone for that matter, you remember that it’s me that makes you feel this way, and that it will always be me.”
Releasing his hold on my chin, he moves it to my hip, holding me in place, while his other hand slips back beneath the waistband of my pants.
This time there’s an urgency to his touch, he doesn’t stop at my panties, his fingers move underneath the thin fabric like they belong there. Those thick digits slide through my already drenched folds and a wicked grin pulls at his lips.
“Of course you’re already wet,” he says triumphantly as if he knew I would be.
Part of me wants to put an end to this now, to push him away, to prove to him that I’m not as weak for his touch as he is for mine, but I can’t.
I just can’t. I can’t do anything but breathe, and feel, Lord, do I feel. I feel everything, all of him, every inch.
With his thumb, he circles my hardened nub while his finger finds its way to my entrance. It’s been so long since I let someone touch me here, since I felt like this. No, I never felt like this before. I’ve had sex before, but I’ve never felt like this before, not with anyone else. There’s no comparison, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
My skin tingles everywhere he touches me. He’s like a thunderstorm, booming, big and powerful, but full of beauty, even in the wake of destruction. I’m so confused by what I’m feeling, by the way he makes me feel. I want to turn the emotions off, forget all about him, but I can’t. I can’t let him go any more than I can untangle our pasts.
My thoughts float away like clouds whisking through the air. I’m dizzy with need and when he inserts a second finger stretching me in a deliciously slow way before adding pressure to my clit, I know I’ll never be the same again.
It’s too much, too fast.
His fingers inside me.
My heavy pants.
My eyes flutter closed involuntarily, the sensations mounting.
“Open your eyes,” he orders, his fingers digging into my hip possessively. “How long have you been waiting for me to finger-fuck you? Days, weeks? How long have you wanted this, wanted me inside you, owning you?”
God, please, make him shut up.
“I hate you,” I murmur, wishing I had the strength to push him away. But I don’t, not physically or mentally. He has a hold on me, and I’m caught in his trap, an unwilling victim to his hate, and to his rage.
“I hate you more,” he growls, his lips so close he’s almost kissing me. We stare into each other’s eyes, his gaze is hard, but it’s brimming with need that definitely mirrors the thrusting his fingers are doing, going even deeper inside of me, curling and hitting a spot that no one else has ever hit before.
I have to concentrate hard to keep my eyes open. I want to close them so bad, let my head fall back against the wall, and just give in to the pleasure completely, but I won’t. I won’t give him that kind of power.
With his thumb on my clit, pressing down on the small bundle of nerves, he continues thrusting his fingers deep inside of me, his pace increasing, growing furious with each passing second. The sound of his fingers slipping through my arousal fills my ears. It’s erotic and reminds me further of how much I desp
ise him.
Warmth gathers deep in my core, and I know I’m close. Judging by the grin tugging on his lips, he knows it too.
Bastard.
“Come, Ava…come all over my fingers. I want to feel you squeeze me.” His words set me off. My toes curl in my boots and my spine tingles. The impending climax claiming me with a vengeance. Unable to keep my eyes open a second longer, they close and roll to the back of my head, just as a loud moan rips from my throat.
My whole body tightens, my pussy squeezing his fingers like he wanted me to, but I don’t care, not that we crossed a line or that I listened to him.
Right now, I don’t care about anything. I feel like I’m high, my mind swarmed with endorphins, my muscles feeling as they went through a deep tissue massage or something. If I wasn’t exhausted before, I am now.
My knees wobble like a newborn baby fawn’s and almost give out underneath me as he releases me. Vance waits like the perfect gentleman until my pussy stops pulsing and the last tremors of my orgasm have rippled through me before he removes his hand and lets go of my hip. I nearly whimper at the loss of his touch but catch myself a second before I do.
I have to lean back against the wall to keep myself from falling over. Bringing a hand to my chest, I try and steady the muscle beating like crazy inside of it.
Somehow I will my eyes open and find that he is still standing in front of me, eyes gleaming with a noticeable boner pressing against his zipper. For some reason, I expected him to be gone by now, that maybe I had just made up this whole thing in my mind.
But there he is, staring at me recovering from an orgasm that he gave me.
“You’re welcome,” he says cockily, a smile ghosting his lips as he does that weird sexy thing guys do where they rub their thumb over their bottom lip. “Next time, I’ll expect you to return the favor.”
“Fuck you.” The words pass my lips on a whisper. I’m far too tired to fight with him right now. “And this won’t be happening again. You. Me. Us. Whatever it is. It’s done. I won’t let you do this again.”
He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side, studying me.